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Brady
There'sa reason I've never told anyone before. They all give me the same look. It's a mix of shock from the enormity of the story itself and sorrow. The last thing I want is for anyone to feel sorry for me. I do that enough. I can still see the concern in my mom's eyes every time I go home.
Even though my anxiety has gotten better over the years.
I've become more social.
Found ways to control the tremor in my hands when I feel overwhelmed by something.
Perfected my disappearing act.
I can slip out unnoticed at any moment in time. And I do. Whenever my anxiety begins to rise. Over the years, I've been able to stay longer at parties like the one tonight. And one day, I'll be able to stay until the very end. But until that day comes, I'll continue to manage my condition.
Because that's what it is. A condition. A fear.
And that fear makes my social anxiety real. I've faced it head-on since moving to Oak Harbor. I was determined to get control of it so that one day I'd be able to move on from the whole ordeal. From dying. All these years later and I still haven't been able to put it behind me. I may never be able to.
"Are you okay now?" Mya asks as she leans in close, pressing her lips to mine. Once. Twice. The third time she lingers longer, and I have to resist the urge to pull her closer. To run my tongue along the seam of her lips. I know once I'm inside, one taste and I won't be able to hold back.
Having her in my arms now, it's hard not to strip her bare.
A week without her was pure torture.
Sure, I went years without this, but that was before I knew what it felt like to be with her. My heart craves hers in a way it never has. So does my body. If she were to shift slightly forward, she would know exactly how much I want her right now.
"I still hate crowds. I can't stay at those parties for very long before I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin. But yes, I'm okay."
"Is that why you always leave early?"
"When it starts to overwhelm me, I leave. I'll go for a ride on my bike or take a walk. If I can calm down, I'll go back. If I can't, I go home. The biggest thing is to continue to push myself, to face what I'm feeling head-on. So many people with enochlophobia end up locking themselves away from society, held hostage by their fear. I don't want to be one of those people. I don't want my fear to have that much control over me, so I continue to go to places that scare me. And every time, I'm able to stay a little longer than the last. To socialize a little more. To stretch my comfort zone inch by inch."
"That's progress. It sounds to me like you're in control of it more than you even realize."
Am I, though? I still take off more than I wish I did, and lately, I haven't been able to go back. The last few years, unless I know it's only going to be my small circle of friends, I don't even want to try.
"In a way I guess I am, but it's far more complicated than I can even begin to explain. If I'm comfortable around the people who are there, the feelings aren't as overwhelming to me. I can spend time with my friends, and I won't even realize I'm not anxious half the time. But add in just one person I don't know, and I'm instantly on edge, ready to run. I try to surround myself with people I trust, people I know won't judge me, but—"
I cut myself off, not wanting to confess that the guys don't know the truth. That she's the first person I've ever told.
"But what?"
"It's nothing." My hands squeeze her hips, and she takes the hint, moving to sit next to me instead of in my lap. A shiver runs up her spine as she runs her hands up and down her legs. "We should go. It's getting colder out here."
"What if I don't want to go yet? What if I have my own confession to make."
I'm not sure I can handle another confession right now. I'm still dealing with the one I just made. Both my hands are shaking, and my heart is beating steadily in my chest.
"That's not why I brought you out here, but if there's something you want to say, the floor is yours."
"Good, because I'd like to clarify what I said the other night." Mya moves to her knees, kneeling between my legs and wrapping her arms around her mid-section. "I'm not broken, but I'm also not perfect. I can't—"
"You are perfect."
"I'm not going to debate the definition of perfect with you right now. Just let me say this before I lose my nerve."
Nodding, Mya shifts, her discomfort apparent.
"Why don't we go somewhere warm and finish this conversation. You're going to freeze in that outfit, and I'm going to feel guilty."
